


little wolf

by nishiki



Series: when the world is burning [7]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Fluff, arr says the pirate, connor is a brat, haytham being a shitty father, ice-cream, little wolf - Freeform, old wolf, sudden fatherly feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 06:16:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3599463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Edward finds out about his son having a twelve year old child he is furious - but he doesn't know that his son already met his kid once before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. kidnapping

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget, you can always write me your requests for new mini ficlets ^^ (either here or here: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/niishiki) I LOVE reading and writing them.

Haytham Kenway was a man who liked his morning routine. In fact, he liked it so much he did not want to be disturbed during his everyday ritual by nothing or by nobody. He liked to sleep until eight AM, and then he liked to take a long shower and dress himself for work properly before he would sit down in his kitchen to have his breakfast made by his cook. Yes. He had a cook. He had also a maid. He was rich. Of course, he had staff in his home. He liked to have his breakfast, drink a cup of tea and enjoyed reading his newspaper in quietude and peace every morning. What he did not like so much was being disturbed during the process and the people close to him knew that pretty well.

But this knowledge did not hinder his own father, Mr. Edward Kenway, to do exactly that on this particular Monday morning, when he first rang his doorbell and then stormed into the kitchen after the maid let him inside. He heard the poor girl trying to hinder the blonde man, but Edward stormed into the kitchen anyway without giving a single shit about the poor girl running after him.

"You have a son?!" The ex-seafarer called with large blue eyes after he stopped in the kitchen door. But Haytham did not even bother looking up at his father. He knew how his face looked like when he was enraged like that and enraged he was judging by the sound of his voice.

"Indeed I have." Haytham replied dryly but did not put the papers down, not until his father stomped further into the room and ripped the newspaper from his hands to confront his son with his snarling face. He looked like a bull confronted with a red fabric. "A good morning to you too, father. His name is Connor by the way and he is twelve years old." It was quite easy to shut his father up with news like these, especially when he was confronted with them in such a matter-of-factly fashion.

"Are you kidding me, Lad?" Edward then huffed and finally pulled back a chair from the table and turned it to sit down on – back to front. His father sat like this as long as Haytham could remember and he would never change no matter how much Haytham or his mother hated this behavior. Sometimes his father still thought himself to be a pirate. "You have a twelve-year-old son and did not tell me or your mother? You know exactly how much she would’ve loved to hear this before she died. Jesus Christ, Haytham! Since when do you know about this kid?"

Yes, his mother would’ve been all over the place if she had heard she had a grandson and his father probably too, but this was the exact reason why he did not tell them. Connor had a family, he did not need some rich British folks and for all Haytham knew his mother would’ve done absolutely everything to get Connor. She would not have had any of this drama with Connor's mother or with her grandson living in another country.

"Well, I know about him right from the start. His mother was one of my secretaries back then when I was working in Boston." Haytham replied and sipped on his tea like they were discussing the weather, while his maid hurried to serve Edward a cup too.

"This is not funny, Haytham." Edward growled and hit the table top with his fist. It was not often that his father would use his full name and normally he only did so when he was angry, his sister Jenny would only then be _Jennifer_ when their father really was angry with her. But they were not children anymore and Haytham was not impressed in the slightest by his father's rage. "You know you have a son for twelve years now and never told me? What did I do – what did your mother do to deserve this behavior? Did you at least pay child support?" Haytham raised a brow and his father moaned. "I thought I taught you better. I can't believe this, Haytham. You did not even pay for the poor child!"

"His mother married a guy shortly after I broke up with her and left Boston again. She knew right from the start that our affair would not have any future and I am quite certain she tried to foist the kid on me because she knew I had money. So no, father, I did not pay child support for a child that could as well be someone else's. She already had two other kids from two different men."

This was an argument that was invalid with his father and Haytham knew that pretty well. "Did you at least see him at one point? Did she ever send you a picture of the boy?"

"She didn’t know my address. I was not able to give it to her when I needed to leave Boston. I'm sure you remember why I had to leave, don’t you father?" There was a slight accusation in his tone and he saw the slightly wrinkled sun-kissed face of his father scrunch up ever so slightly. But the reality was that he had already met this boy. _His_ boy. Haytham remembered the day he met Connor very vividly. It was curiosity that overwhelmed him when he had this trip to Boston nearly seven years ago. Back then he only wanted to have a small look at the boy that should be his, but as soon as he laid eyes on the black haired kid he knew that he was his.

 

* * *

 

It was a sunny December afternoon in the small town of Dorchester when Haytham got out of the taxi that brought him to the elementary school he aimed for. He still knew that this was the only elementary school in this part of Dorchester and that his ex-girlfriend wanted her boys to visit this school for it was so close to their home. Chances were good that he would find this little boy here. He should be six years of age by now. Of course, during the past six years, he often thought about the possibility of Maud aborting his child. He would not blame her if she did abort his child after he left her with the prospect of getting no cent out of him. But for a guy like Haytham it took only a few phone calls to find out that Maud was not just newly wed to a man named William Miles and that she not only gave birth to a son named Connor six years ago but also that she had yet another child a few years later.

Haytham was a man who stood behind his mistakes, but leaving this woman behind six years ago was no mistake. He never regretted leaving her for the company needed him after his father decided to wander off. He never saw himself being the step-dad for two kids even though the younger boy, Ezio seemed to like him back then very much whenever they would go on those little adventures together. It was something different with the older boy, Altaїr. He always seemed suspicious and it was good that he was like this. He never saw himself even as a father-figure. He simply was not a father-figure and he had no wish in becoming a father. And yet he was here now, standing at the gate of the old elementary school of the bad part of Dorchester and waited for the school bell to ring. The paint of the façade of the buildings was not only chipped in places but the bricks beneath it were very visible every here and there.

He had no clue what the boy looked like, but he was sure Maud would pick him up – or one of his brothers and then he would see who the kid was. That was all he wanted. He just wanted to have a small glimpse at his boy just so he would know how he looked like and then he would travel back home. Curiosity it was. Just that. He wanted to see how this little boy looked like. He wanted to know if they shared similarities at all … perhaps he even wanted to know if he was alright. For now, he tried to look at the topic as if he was looking at a science project. Yes, that was exactly what Connor was for him. He was a frog lying on his table to be dissected by him.

With those thoughts, Haytham Edward Kenway stood in front of the elementary school right next to the gate and waited for the first children to run outside as soon as the school bell rang. He did not like their screeching at all and the noise children produced. That was one reason why he never wanted children on his own. He did not like children.

Haytham watched very closely while the kids kept pouring outside the building. Most of them stormed towards the school bus, some of them climbed into the cars that already waited in front of the building by the sidewalk, some of them were greeted by their parents and moved away chattering and suddenly Haytham felt stupid. This was a very rare feeling to have for him. He had no clue if his son visited this school at all. For all he knew Maud could've sent him to another school or he could be going to a school for children with special needs! What if his son was disabled in any way? It was quite possible, wasn’t it? He could just as well already have walked past him towards the bus! This right here was the most stupid thing he ever had done.

Still, he waited the entirety of twenty minutes until there were no children left to leave the building. Well at least nobody seen him and nobody knew he was here at all - Nobody who could confront him about this whole ordeal. After a small while, Haytham finally managed to move again and passed the gate but then stopped, when he saw a tiny figure standing by the entrance of the school seemingly waiting. From the distance, it was hard to tell if it was a boy or a girl standing there. The kid had long black hair and kicked a stone with his tiny feet. Even from this distance, his clothes looked worn and old and when Haytham had a glance at his backpack he suddenly noticed he _knew_ this very backpack. It was the same Altaїr used in kindergarten when they first met over six years ago.

"Connor!" There was a woman leaving the building and the little boy looked up to her before she crouched down next to him. She said something, but Haytham could not understand it, but when she retreated back into the building the little guy finally strolled towards the gate. From his spot, he could see him rubbing his cheeks like he tried to wipe away tears.

"What's wrong, little man?" Haytham found himself asking when Connor stepped outside the gate and startled the boy so much that he nearly stumbled backward. He was not good with kids. No, not at all, but now he could not help but simply stare at Connor. The boy in front of him was rather small for a six-year-old kid. He was definitely shorter than the average and he appeared to be thin. Very thin. A child his age should not be thin like this even with clothing on! He had really dark big brown eyes that looked nothing Kenway at all. But still, he was a Kenway. Haytham could see this right away no matter the freckles on his soft cheeks. He never believed people when they said that they had found their lost children years after and instantly recognized them, but yet here he stood and he _recognized_ his child. There was something inside his chest twitching when the longer he looked at the boy and his big brown curious yet shy eyes.

"I am not allowed to talk to strangers." The little guy said and looked in the same instant like he wanted to curse for he just talked to a stranger.

"But I am no stranger. I am an old friend of your mother." The boy made a face. He was not dumb. At least he did not look like he was. "What are you crying about? Did someone bully you?"

"I don’t believe you, my mother is dead." The boy then growled at him and took a step back, his eyes full of suspicion and Haytham could hardly blame him. The news of Maud's death came to him as a shock. He had not expected to hear something like this, never expected that she would be dead at such a young age leaving her children behind, but he tried his best to conceal what he was thinking in front of this boy.

"Yes, I know that, lad." He lied as convincing as possible even though a small part of him still felt terrible not only for Maud's death. To say that he had loved her would be a little exaggerated. "I was away for a very long time, you know? I just recently learned about her death, so I thought I should visit Boston once again to look if you guys needed help."

Connor eyed him carefully and never before in his life was Haytham more relieved seeing someone's distrust in him. Distrust - a healthy portion of distrust - sometimes was a better shield than any armor could be especially for a kid Connor's age. He wished Connor to look with a suspicious eye at the world and all the bad people in it. He rather had a kid like Connor who looked at him with suspicion, than a kid that would go with any stranger - rather than a dead kid.

"We're fine." The boy murmured, but his eyes told him that it was not how he said. Something was not right, but who was Haytham to ask about it? _Well, you are his father. You have every right in the world asking those questions_ \- Only that he did not have the right after he abandoned the poor child over six years ago so soon after he learned about his existence (an existence not even bigger than a peanut).

"So … do you want to tell me why you cried?" Why in the world did he even talk to the boy? There really was no logical explanation in his head for his behavior towards this pup. After all, he just wanted to know how he looked like and now he knew how he looked like. He even knew what his voice sounded like and how sad his deep brown reddened eyes could look like. That was far more than he ever wanted to know about his child.

"I didn’t cry." He groaned and crossed his arms in defiance. The way he pushed his little chin forward very much reminded him of his own father, but the way he wrinkled his nose was entirely the boy's mother.

"Of course not" Haytham replied patiently and grabbed with his right hand his left wrist behind his back and straightened his spine into the elegant and disciplined posture he normally showed. "A real man doesn't cry. I beg your pardon, young sir, I am afraid I was misguided by the tears on your cheeks. I believe you just had something in your eyes, sir."

For just a moment the boy seemed confused by his demeanor, but then he nodded and kicked against an especially mean looking pebble on the ground. "Right." He then replied. His eyes still were filled with distrust and caution, but yet he seemed to relax in his presence if only a little. It was just now that a thought crossed Haytham's mind: What if the boy already knew who he was? What if Maud showed the boy a photo of his father? "You sound funny, where are you from?"

Funny? Oh, those Americans. "Well how about we talk about that while eating ice-cream? I believe I've seen an ice-cream parlor around the corner." He had no clue where that came from, but Haytham really tried his best to suppress outbursts like this from now on.

"I am no allowed to walk off with strangers." Good boy. "Other than this my big brother will come and pick me up any minute now and when he sees you he will punch you!"

What age was Altaїr now? Eleven? Twelve? Well, it sure would be an impressive picture if this eleven-year-old child would try to beat him up for talking with his little brother. Anyway, he should better avoid meeting the oldest kid. "I am sure he will." He just smirked. He could not help it, his mouth moved on his own in front of this kid. "But I believe Altaїr is already a bit late, isn't he?" As soon as the name of his brother left Haytham's mouth the brown eyes grew huge again and Haytham nearly saw his suspicion melting to a little puddle.

"I think he tries to tease me again." He then murmured. "He does that all the time, you know? He always let me wait here because he knows I am not allowed to walk off by myself. And when he come to pick me up he just starts complaining and moaning and says he has so many other things to do than picking me up."

"Well, well. That is not nice at all. But would it not be nice frightening your brother a little fort being late and letting you wait all the time?"

Now he really had the boy's attention. He could almost see how Connor turned his words over in his little head and searched frantically for a hidden threat. Of course, _if_ Haytham would be a child abductor there would be a hidden threat, but now he did not even know why he wanted to take the boy to that god damned ice-cream-parlor. It was not like he wanted to spend time with his only son suddenly. But - oh well - he already spoke to the child and he already broke some boundaries, he could as well spoil the kid a little as long as he would not know who Haytham really was. And perhaps (perhaps) they could really frighten Altaїr with that. Yes, this way he - Haytham E. Kenway - could teach that darn boy a lesson leaving his little brother behind in the cold.

"Okay." Connor simply said and looked around again. There was still no trace of Altaїr running down the streets like a bull seeing red, ready to lunge at Haytham. He would never question Altaїr's ability to recognize him right away even after six years. Then the boy did something Haytham would not have expected. He extended his little hand towards him and after a moment Haytham took it and gave it a shake. "I'm Connor." The little guy said finally. "Connor Miles." There was something about this last name that gave his heart a little sting. Of course, the boys would use their stepdad's name. Of course, Maud would have forced this name upon her sons. Of course, this boy would not even know the name Kenway.

"Haytham." He replied with a small nod, but before his real name could escape his lips, he stopped himself. "Scott. Haytham Scott." Jenny would understand. He had no clue what this little man really knew about his father. It was quite possible he grew up thinking he was the son of this _Miles_ , for all he knew and if this man would have accepted Connor as his son well knowingly that he was not, there was nothing Haytham could or would do about it. After all, he only wanted his child to be well, right? He had no right to be jealous of the man that raised his son after he ran back to England and never came back to look for his child.

"That's a silly name" Connor commented and Haytham made a grimace and let go of the little hand to strive along.

"Well, Connor is a silly name too." He replied dryly and walked forward towards their new destination after they introduced themselves to each other like real gentlemen. After a few steps, he noticed that Connor did not follow and when he turned around he noticed that the boy held his hand outstretched again. It took a while until Haytham finally understood that this stubborn little man would not walk with him if he - Haytham - would not take his hand. The thought alone made his guts wrench, but still, he walked towards him again to grab the little hand a second time. He would never allow himself to _feel_ anything about this, but … well … there definitely was a feeling inside him. Annoyance. Yes. He was quite sure. This little bugger annoyed him like his father would.

"What does Haytham even mean?" Connor then chatted while they walked off - hand in hand.

"It means young eagle. My father has a thing for birds. He used to be a seafarer and his ship was called the _jackdaw_. So there you go, the name isn't that silly, right? You know what Connor means?" Haytham really tried to suppress the urge looking down on the boy at his side. It was crazy. He never really imagined walking with his son down the street towards an ice-cream parlor. It felt weird - it felt normal - it felt not right at all. The boy only shook his little head (he could see that because he did not succeed in suppressing the urge of looking down to him). "Connor is an old Irish name and it means lover of dogs."

He was again confronted with huge brown eyes shooting up to him. "I love dogs!" The boy then exclaimed and Haytham tried his best not to grin. This must be the Kenway-genes for he remembered Connor's mother absolutely hated animals.

"Well but Connor might also mean _strong will_ , at least in the language of the Celtic." If this boy was indeed a Kenway he must possess a strong will that was their families curse.

"I think I like the one with the dogs better. I always wanted to have a dog but mama did not like dogs also Ezio is afraid of large animals, so I was not allowed to get one."

"And what about your dad? Doesn't he allow you a pet?" He did not really want to know anything about the guy Maud married highly pregnant with _his_ child and suddenly Connor lowered his gaze to his little feet and his old, well-worn shoes. Now that Haytham had more than enough time to look at the kid he noticed how old and out fashioned his clothes were. There were no holes in his pants or in his jacket or shoes, but they looked very used.

"Bill is my stepdad. He is only Desmond's dad. But he doesn’t like pets either." The boy then sighed but his voice was much quieter this time. There was something he wanted to say but did not and perhaps it was better this way. Haytham did not want to burden himself with the problems of other people.

"Oh, that's a shame." Haytham then replied with a soft smile, when they walked around the corner and arrived at the ice-cream parlor. "I really like dogs. In my home there always were animals. My sister even had a horse." It had begun like it always began: with a little girl nagging her father _"daddy, daddy buy me a pony!"_.

"Did you have dogs?" There were those bright brown eyes again looking up to him with curiosity (and a little bit jealousy) and Haytham nodded a little.

"Yes, I had a lot of dogs. I have a dog right now in fact, but she stays with my father as long as I have business in the US." And with that, they began talking about dogs when they entered the shop and sat down on a table in a corner. It was Haytham who chose a table in this particular corner, away from the windows. Of course, he did not do something criminal here, but still he did not want to be seen with the kid - especially not by his older brother.

Connor did not seem to know who he was and it was better if it would stay like this. It would make everything much easier for the both of them. Connor would not see him again as soon as they would part ways and it was better like this. Perhaps the boy would someday find out about him and search for him, but that was something for another day.

"So will you tell me - now that I am no stranger anymore - why you were so upset before?" Haytham asked after a small while after he just watched the boy devouring his ice. He would not take his jacket or his old scarf off while Haytham just laid his coat over one of the chairs and sipped on his coffee. Finally, the boy looked up to him with his chocolate stained mouth.

"I wasn’t upset…" The boy mumbled, but then he opened his mouth again. "Well … there was a boy that teased me today."

"Why?"

"The other kids always tease me about my clothes and stuff. We don’t have much money and I don’t have a problem with wearing Altaїr's and Ezio's clothes, but the other kids will always laugh at me." There was a little voice somewhere in Haytham's mind saying something like how the boy would never get teased for his old clothes if he would be living with his father. He could buy this boy all the clothes he desired and all the toys he wanted. If he would live with Haytham this boy would always have the newest and coolest stuff, that was for sure and really nobody would even dare make fun of his precious child.

"What about your brothers? Shouldn’t they be with you in that school? Shouldn’t they help you?" Haytham had no clue whatsoever how the school system in the US worked, but after all, he knew at least Ezio should be visiting this particular elementary school too, right?

"Altaїr is already in middle school, he changed schools this summer and Ezio is already in _the fourth grade._ " – He said this with all the awe only a six-year-old child could muster – "He is one of the cool kids, you know… He would not like to be seen with a Baby like me. Ezio doesn’t like me. Altaїr doesn’t like me either." Again with those sad puppy eyes! By now Haytham was quite sure Connor's eyes were Mother Nature's way of protecting the child from the real danger in the world, for no one would dare hurt a child with eyes like this.

"I bet they like you." Haytham then replied, although there was again this irrational voice inside his head (that sounded a lot like his father) raging about those two older brothers. How was one supposed to not like this child? He was _adorable –_ and never in his life would Haytham have thought he would ever even think this. He really did not like children, but he guessed it really was something different with your own children. "But you know big brothers can't really show something like this. It’s a weakness their little siblings could use against them otherwise."

Just for one second Connor's eyes lit up a little, but then he shrugged again. "I don’t think so." He mumbled and shoved another spoon full of delicious chocolate ice-cream in his mouth. "Altaїr always yells at me and Ezio always ignores me when he sees me in school."

"And what about your little brother?"

For a moment Connor said nothing but stared down at the bottom of his sundae. "Desmond is okay I guess. But he is only two years old and he is mostly with Altaїr. I think it's really unfair, you know?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well … Altaїr never liked me, he is always angry with me, but he is really close with Ezio and Desmond. I think it's unfair. He looks after Desmond and would always play with him since mama is gone, but not with me and Ezio is the same. I think it's unfair that Desmond gets to have them and I don’t. Sometimes I think they would like it best if I would not be around."

He hates seeing his boy being mistreated by his own brothers like this. He could not stand seeing him so sad and he felt ridiculous for being so weak and soft, but he could not help it and he tried to convince himself that he did not react this way because it was his child but because no child should be treated like this. "My older sister – Jennifer – ignored me once for the entirety of two years, Lad. It went so far that I sometimes believed I was a ghost and that nobody could see me."

"That’s mean." The boy replied awestruck.

"Yes, it was. But it was even meaner when she surprised me with a fake spider in my bed." Connor made a face, but at least he did not look so sad anymore.

"What did you do to stop her?"

"Well I decided it was about time to fight fire with fire. You see, she put a fake-spider in my bed; I put a real one in hers. She spat in my cereal, I spat in hers. It went on and on and on like this for months and while our father found it relatively amusing, out mother was furious." Haytham tried not to think back too much. He really liked this time when he was still a child and could pull of something like this, but it lay in the past and this was exactly the place where it belonged to.

"Did it work? Did she stop?" There was hope in Connor's eyes and Haytham was quite sure the boy already made a mental list with all those things he could do to his older brothers so he could force them to treat him decently, but Haytham only chuckled and shook his head.

"Not at all. After four months we were exhausted, you know? We were always living in fear what the other could do next time and never knew when next time would be. It was quite horrible." And then the hope was gone from Connor's eyes and the boy sighed deeply. "But" - his eyes flickered again - "then there was the day my sister climbed the old apple tree in our garden. She always teased me about it, because I could not climb as high as she could. She tried to impress me this day especially when she climbed nearly to the top of the tree and I was furious. She always tried to outnumber me and teased me for a boy should be able to do at least what she could do and I really wished she would fall from her high those. Well she did. There was a rotten breach she tried to stand on, but it broke under her weight and she fell all the way down. Never in my life was I more afraid than in this moment when she laid in the grass and did not move."

"Did she die?" Connor's eyes were huge again and there was this distinct sign of terror somewhere in the back of his head, visible in his dark eyes, like he knew exactly what Haytham meant.

"No. She got away with a broken leg and a few scratches, but after this we got along quite well. Before this day I resented my sister, I found her annoying, but when I saw her like this I understood that she just tried to inspire me to get over my own limitations whenever she challenged or teased me like this. She loved me, that was why she would always climb higher and higher than me although she was afraid of heights, but she wanted me to see that it was possible." – And perhaps she wanted to tease him, but that was another story and one that did not matter to cheer the boy up a little. Connor only nodded in silence and stirred with his spoon in the remains of his ice-cream pooling on the bottom of the sundae. He seemed to think about something, but then he spoke up again.

"Altaїr once nearly drowned because of me." He then said slowly. "I was four and I wanted to skate on the frozen pond in the forest behind our house, but when the ice cracked he pushed me to the shore and broke through the ice himself. I was so afraid I could lose him this day."

"Well?" Haytham smiled and it did not even feel exhausting like it normally did. "Your brother loves you. He would not have done something like this and risk his own life if he would not. It's not nice that they treat you like this at all, but someday he will understand that he needs to be nice to you and then he will. Until this day comes you just need to remember that your brother loves you." With that Haytham's gaze shifted towards his clock. He needed to catch a flight back to London in a few hours and needed to get back to Charles' place to retrieve his luggage before. "And I guess you frightened your brother now enough. I bet he is already searching for you."

Connor nodded and with this they left the place. Never in his life had it felt harder to part with somebody, but Connor declared he would find his way home on his own and Haytham would rather not get caught by Altaїr. They parted with a small shake of their hands like true gentlemen, when they arrived at the elementary school again. "Well then, Mr. Miles, I wish you a pleasant journey home." He said and Connor grinned at him.

"You still sound funny." The boy finally said, before he turned and left. For a long moment Haytham simply stood and stared after him. He already missed the feeling of this small hand in his own and instinctively clenched his fist ever so slightly by the feeling of loss, before he shoved his hands eagerly in his coat pockets. Bugger. When Connor vanished behind a corner Haytham began walking. He should call a taxi to get back to Charles, but he did not, instead he walked the way the boy did and followed him. He could not help it. Something inside his mind needed to be soothed and needed to know that this child would get home safely.

He followed the boy as carefully and cautious as he could, but the oblivious kid never even turned his head around. Haytham still knew the way from the elementary school back to Maud's house. It was not far, but still the little guy managed to get lost a few times on the way. The first time he turned left when he should turn right Haytham stopped breathing, but then he noticed that the little guy stopped by a window of a toyshop and just looked at the plush-toys displayed in it, before he went back to his original route. He knew quite well which way to go and Haytham could not suppress the feeling of pride swelling in his chest. Not any six year old boy could find his way home on his own, but _his_ boy could. It was quite late when Maud's neighborhood finally came in sight and Haytham had followed the boy with every stop and turn he did. Of course the little man did not go straight home, of course he looked at the windows of the shop on the way and even detoured every now and then – and every time he did Haytham was afraid and did not know how to get the lad back to his destined path without stepping right in his way.

It really would be awkward when the boy would notice he had been followed the whole time.

Haytham stopped finally near the corner of a house by the end of the street, knowing his son would find his way home. He wanted to turn and go, when he heard the screeching sound of a little boy. His heart nearly stopped, but then he noticed that it was not Connor screeching like this. In the dim light of the wintery street he could see two other boys running down the sidewalk towards Connor. One of them had rather long hair – just like Connor – pulled back into a ponytail and was a little bit shorter than the other boy – the one that had screeched so loudly.

"There you are!" He could hear Altaїr huff and noticed the hunch the boy seemed to have developed. It took a few seconds until he understood that he had not developed a hunch but was carrying another child on his back. For a moment he just watched the brothers, but when he saw how Altaїr grabbed his younger sibling and pulled him into a hug Haytham finally moved again. Connor was safe now and he needed to get back to his own duties.

Later that day, when he already leaned back in his comfortable seat in the first class row of the plane he put out his phone and clicked through the pictures he made with the thing. It were not many, but there was this one picture he took today his eyes remained on far too long for his liking. Softly he stroked his thump over the display when another heavy body fell down on the seat next to him. "You really were late today." Shay moaned and flashed him a somewhat angry glare. Not really angry, because the guy was rarely angry with him, but angry enough. "The company called me twice today!" But Haytham only snorted.

"They will learn to be patient. They should consider themselves lucky I don’t run off to the Caribbean like my father did six years ago, right?" For only a second he looked at Shay. He took everything in, his long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail (something he saw rather often lately), his dark eyes, the pale skin, the scar over his eye and the slight frown in his face, but the Shay looked to the side and shrugged his shoulders.

"I bet they will. After all they don’t have any other chance, right Boss?"

Haytham only patted his friend's leg and closed his eyes afterwards. "Right." He replied quietly. While he heard the rustling of papers beside him and knew that Shay went back on reading the latest reports of the company to be prepared, he himself thought back to this day six years ago and he could not help but think what would’ve happened if he had not followed Shay's emergency call after his father's grand and very sudden escape to the Caribbean. Would he have stayed with Maud? Would he have become the stepfather of Ezio and Altaїr and the father of Connor? How would things be if he had stayed and raised his son?

He could not know in this moment, that he would sit in a plane to Boston again seven years from now joined by his father after he got a message of his old friend Charles about the conditions his son would live in. He could not know that he would again browse through the pictures on his phone and that he would again stop by a picture he made seven years ago on a sunny December afternoon in a small ice-cream-parlor of a child with a chocolate stained face not even noticing that he was being photographed while devouring his ice.

He could not know that he would meet his child again and that he would never be more afraid of losing this child. He could not know that this precious boy would resent him just to make a move towards him years later and try to forgive him. He did not deserve the boy's forgiveness, but he could not know.


	2. old wolf

"Dad! Dad stop you're ruining my mane!"

For Connor, it was still new and weird calling Haytham Edward Kenway _Dad_ , but it felt even weirder calling him _Haytham_ all the time after a little while. _Dad_ was this little compromise he made with himself, for he knew Haytham would much rather be called _father_ and absolutely hated this Americanized term _dad_. Like this Connor could still annoy his father and did not need to call him by his first name any longer. It was a win-win situation – for Connor.

Haytham was merciless in the process of brushing his son's hair with his own old hairbrush – _old_ was here by meant literally, for it only consisted of the wooden body of the brush and large and stiff bristles, which were ripping on his soft black hair every time Haytham would try to tame his mane. Perhaps this was Haytham's way of revenge for Connor calling him Dad. Oh well. Haytham only ripped harder on his hair whenever this word spilled over his son's lips and when Connor yelped he made a surprised face – which Connor could see for the bathroom mirror was right in front of him, so he could see his father's face in it who was standing behind him. "Sorry, lad." He said when he finally bound his hair together into a tight ponytail with a bright red hairband much like the one he used himself. Connor did not like it at all. After all those years he got used to Altair trying to tame his hair, but his brother was not as strict as Haytham was. He looked like a girl with a pony tail like this! Haytham even tried to pull back his bangs! It was absurd!

"I don’t like it." Connor moaned like only a fourteen year old could, but Haytham rolled his eyes and patted his shoulders. "It looks weird and old-fashioned – just like you." And with that he got himself a smack to the back of his head, before Haytham put the brush – this harmful weapon – away. Of course Haytham's bathroom (one of many) was just as tidy as the rest of this house.

"Well you see lad: I don’t care." Haytham replied dryly and rolled down the sleeves of his sweater – dark blue with nothing on it, just plain boring, like his father. His hair began to turn grey already and of course Connor had had his fair share of jokes about it, after he left the plane a few days ago. It was his first trip to the UK and it was still weird for him. He did not understand the money system at all and he did not understand what his father said at times. "Now you finally look like a civilized human being and not like a savage anymore."

"Wow that was racist, lad." Connor's face lit up immediately when he heard the deep voice of his grandfather standing in the bathroom door at a matter of course. He did not even bother himself with the question of how his grandpa managed to get inside the house without him or his dad noticing. The maid had a thing for this man. It was needless to say that his grandfather still had no intention of looking like a responsible adult or a grandfather at all. He wore his favorite checkered light blue button up flannel shirt – unbuttoned - and a black T-Shit with a skull underneath. His blonde hair open and just as messy as Connor's normally would be. He could really use a shave, but Connor liked this overall hobo-attire of his granddad. Edward's blonde hair had gone a little lighter during the past years and it was streaked with one or two seemingly white hairs already – but not nearly as much as his son's.

Connor though the cause of his father's grey hair laid in his work. Since he arrived at Heathrow a few days ago he had not seen much of his father and although Connor tried to let it look like he was glad about this situation, he was not. After all he came to Britain for the summer to spend the time with his father and to get to know him better – Malik encouraged this a lot for it was important to spend time with your family as long as they are still around and especially since he was the only one of their family who really had this opportunity of spending time with his father and getting to know his own father better still left to him. He knew Altair and Ezio would give a lot for an opportunity like this and that Malik would give his left arm if necessary to get his parents back for just one single day. It had not seem right to decline Haytham's (or rather Edward's) offer. He was a little sad that his father would spend the time he was here working pretty much 24/7. Only a few times they had had dinner or breakfast together since he was here and even fewer times he caught his dad sitting in the living room reading a report. Connor understood why his grandpa fled their company fourteen years ago and although he should be angry because of this, he was not.

He really understood Edward's decision back then, even though it meant he had to grow up without his father for he needed to go back to the UK. It was not exactly Edward's fault all alone since Haytham could’ve been his father nonetheless.

Out of the corner of his eye Connor noticed how his father's face turned to a sour expression when he spotted his own father, but Connor did not care when he jumped from the edge of the bathtub to greet his grandpa with a wide grin. Edward ruffled through his black hair and ruined the effort Haytham had put into taming his son's mane, but his father only shrugged his shoulders with a low moan. "Good morning, father." He said, while Connor hugged Edward briefly and already tugged at his hand expectantly what adventure they would go on next. His grandpa was great company for all he knew. He was funny and adventurous – just like Connor and he would rather show him every hidden corner of the city of London instead of dragging him to the Museum, like his father proposed on the first day of his stay. Perhaps a small part inside Connor even tried to make Haytham a little bit jealous, but then again his father did not seem really that interested in spending time with him anyway. "What brings you here this early in the day? Shouldn’t you lie drunk in some shady hotel room right now with some unknown lady?"

"You misjudge me, kid." Edward grinned and tugged a little with one hand on the bright red hairband to loosen it a bit and free a few strands of Connor's hair. Much better. "I'm here to see my grandson of course. And since you rather waste the time of his stay with working even more than usually, I am here to take him to the _London Dungeo_ n today."

"Well actually I intended to in fact spend a little time with my son today, father, but of course you can take him to the _London Dungeon_ if you so much desire to scare him." Haytham replied with crossed arms and suddenly Connor felt like he stood between two stools. It was weird. Suddenly he had the choice of spending a fun day with his grandpa in the big city (and being with Edward was _always_ fun) or spending quality time with his dad for once. Of course he wanted to get to know his father better after all those years. They never really spoke about the things that happened when Haytham had been in Dorchester years ago for Connor ignored him most of the time back then. He had been angry with this man who had left him and his mother behind, who had lured him into an ice cream parlor when he was only six years old without telling him who he was. And he did not know still why his father did it. But now he did not want to let his grandpa down just because his father suddenly decided to be a father.it simply was not right. But it seemed like Edward sensed his thoughts, for he patted his head.

"I guess then we will visit the _Dungeon_ another time, right? You should spend a little time with your dad, lad. Just try to survive him." Edward chuckled, but Connor looked at his father. He did not quite know if he should be happy to spend the day with Haytham or not, but he deserved a fair trial it seemed. He could continue to _resent_ him tonight when this day would be over.

"What are we going to do today?" That at least was something he wanted to know first before he would let his grandpa go – whatever the old pirate would do with his spare time. He noticed how his father straightened his spine and crossed his arms behind his back. Oh well… This day would not be fun at all.

"Well, lad, you see I was going to teach you some things today."

"Which is what? I know already how to ride a bicycle and I know how to swim. What are you going to teach me? Cooking? Laundry? How to skateboard?" But Haytham cleared his throat. Yes, he was sure, this could not be good. He did not know much about his father for now, but he already knew that his father was the most boring person on this earth and when he looked like this – his face stoic and stern, his arms crossed behind his back, his spine straightened and his shoulders lifted ever so slightly – he was about to say something highly boring and he _knew_ _himself_ he was about to bore his son to death with whatever he was going to say.

"You see, son" He began. "Since I don’t think your brother or his _husband_ bothered to teach you how to behave surrounded by influential people, I will teach you decent manners today _and_ I will teach you how to dance."

" _Dance?!_ " Connor squealed and Edward burst into laughter, his broad frame blocking the door and his only escape. "Why should I need to know how to dance?"

"Because, son, you will attend school dances someday and I bet your partner would greatly profit from this dancing lessons. Other than this there is a party in a few weeks and I wish you to accompany me."

Haytham would not say it but Connor was not as dumb as not to know what this really meant. It was not just some stupid party in some boring living room. When Haytham talked about a _party_ he really meant a get together with business people and the high society in suits and tuxedos and cocktail dresses and drinks and expensive food (Oh Kadar would hate him for not sneaking food to the US from this particular party). But it was not only this party that shocked him a little about Haytham's words. Normally he would go alone, that was for sure and he did not want to take Connor with him because he was his son or because he was here now, it really was because he wanted to introduce Connor to his colleagues and friends and to show them that he was not ashamed of him and did not want to hide him anymore (at least that was what Connor thought – and hoped). He would not go as far as to say that his father wanted to show him to the world because he was proud of him or loved him, but perhaps they were on a good way. "I don’t want to go to some stupid party." He groaned anyway (because he was a moody teenager).

"Don’t worry lad, it's not that boring – well sometimes at least." Edward grinned and again ruffled through his hair to finally destroy Haytham's work.

"Will you be there too?" Connor asked with raised eyebrows when he looked up to the old seafarer, but Edward took a step back and held his hands up in defense.

"Oh god forbid no!"

 

* * *

 

 

"Ouch!" Connor moaned once more. "You are not so very good at this dad!" But Haytham E. Kenway only rolled his eyes on this behavior of his fourteen-year-old son. His grip around the small hand of the child (of the teen) was like iron and just as firm as his grip on the left hip of the boy who posed as his son. Connor was highly uncomfortable with this.

"Quite the contrary, son. To me, it seems as if you have two left feet, that's all. And now go on, Connor. One, two, _three_. One, two, _three_." – "Ouch!" – "Connor!" – "Watch out for your bloody feet!"

They stood inside the living room of Haytham's house. Well, actually they did not stand so much as they were dancing. Well, they were not dancing either, they tried much more – rather unsuccessfully like Connor would state. For Connor, it had been quite a shock when he first arrived outside the house in Edward's big, black old-timer nearly a week ago. And it had been an even bigger shock when he then entered the house. Haytham's home stood not in the confines of the big city of London, but a little outside in the suburbs, near enough to reach the city by car quite fast, but far enough away to live a quiet and peaceful life. The house itself was a mansion – although a rather small mansion, as Edward had said. He did not understand what his grandpa meant by that at first, that was until he first visited the _main house_ of the Kenway family. Haytham's house was big enough to shelter their whole family and to give each and every one of them (even Malik and Altair) an own room. But in the same instant, Haytham's house was small enough to fit at least two, perhaps even three times into the main house. Someday – Connor swore to himself - he wanted to take his family with him for the summer holidays to this house. There was not much need to state that he already missed them. Just to remain loyal to the truth, he was homesick since the very first day of his journey constantly.

The living room was so large that theirs back in Dorchester would fit twice inside and was stuffed with old furniture and paintings which authenticity Connor would never dare to question. The furniture his father decided to stuff his house with looked somewhat like a movie set for some Victorian or maybe Colonial project. But it suited his father somewhat. It was old fashioned and antic – much like his father and with that he was so much unlike his own father Edward (if he were to ask Edward he would say that there had something gone wrong in the middle Kenway-generation which was the once of his father). But there was one room Connor loved in this house: The study (how his father called the room while Connor would say it was the office) suited on the ground floor.

The _study_ was a room packed with old and big books covered in old and heavy leather and filled with even older and thicker yellowish paper. He loved the smell inside this very room, the smell of the old leather, the paper, and the ink, the dust every here and there because Haytham did not allow his maid to clean this particular room. He loved to sit in the big leather chair of his father behind the heavy oak desk (a relic of the last century) in front of the large window and read for hours and hours – often until he fell asleep. Haytham made it very clear right from the start that he did not like it when someone would enter his office and touched his things, but he never shooed Connor out of there anyway. He never asked, but he knew far well, that his father often carried him into his bed after he fell asleep in his study. Who else was to be held responsible for him waking up in his own bed neatly tugged in every time he fell asleep in the study?

"Quite the contrary my ass, dad!" He moaned again. "You nearly broke my foot!"

"You really should watch your mouth, young man, if I am to letting you off the leash. Altair should’ve told you better manners." Haytham sighed when he finally gave up to push around his son through the living room accompanied by his constant _one, two, three, one two three_ and folded his arms resigned in front of his chest, while there was still waltz music blaring from the stereo (the only modern thing in this room) in the background. Connor was kind of glad that his grandpa left an hour ago for he would be rolling on the floor laughing because of the sight they offered.

"How am I supposed to learn how to dance anyway when you lead all the time? It's not like I will dance with a guy if I am to dance at all!" Connor's face was hot and he knew full well that his cheeks were flushed red just like his ears. It was a combination of anger and embarrassment leading to this reaction of his body. He did not really like to be led by his father when he, on the other hand, had no problem being led by Malik or Altair or even Ezio in which way whatsoever.

"How shall I teach you how to dance when you won't let me lead to show you _how_ to lead?" Haytham replied stubbornly. They were talking in circles again, just like they did every time they started to argue with one another but before he came to Britain he could simply close his laptop and ignore his father who was confronted with a black screen after Connor just ended the skype call. Now he could not simply ignore this tedious guy – and a small part of him knew his father too wanted nothing more than just end this _skype call_ and ignore his bullheaded son. His foot hurt after his father stepped once again on it during this lesson. Connor wore just his socks while his father wore his black polished shiny shoes like he would every time, even when he was running around the house. Of course, his foot hurt now. How shouldn’t it?

"I won't be able to dance with anyone on this stupid party when you keep stomping on my foot like an elephant!"

"Maybe I would not _stomp_ on your foot when you would follow my lead better."

"Why should I follow your lead anyway?"

"Because I am your father and I say so."

"Since when are you my fucking father?" Connor finally blared when he took a few steps back, foaming with rage. The lesson was over and there was no misunderstanding about this. His father was so stubborn! Connor thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his hair was still pulled back into a tight ponytail (after Haytham forced him to tame his mane once more) and he had no interest whatsoever in keeping up appearances now. His brother would not be proud of him if he could hear him cursing like this. He cursed rarely and he almost never used the _F-word_. He was the fucking good kid for Christ's sake but every time he was around his father he lost his calm!

When Haytham opened his mouth to answer this _question_ of his, Connor continued and cut him off him immediately. "You were never my father! You ran away although you knew my mother was pregnant, so don't act like you are my father now just because you allow me to stay here during summer! You did not even invite me! Grandpa did! Grandpa spent time with me since my arrival! Grandpa came to Dorchester for every single birthday party – and not just mine – and he came every year at Christmas or New Year to celebrate with us! Grandpa cared! Grandpa called and grandpa showed me right from the start that he loves me! And now _you_ act like you are my father who cared for me and loved me just because things are not going as you planned! I am sorry that I am not the obedient little dog you liked to have, but that is your fault alone! Do you want to know why I won't let you lead?"

"Well please enlighten me." Haytham groaned between clenched teeth. Connor noticed the balling of his fists in anger and the pulsating of the little artery at his jaw and on his forehead. His nostrils flared with every breath he took through the nose like a raging bull, but he won't say anything yet and he would not punch him _yet_. Connor did not know much about his father and he did not know if he would punch him, but he would not dismiss the possibility.

"Because I don’t trust you, that’s why! How could I trust someone to lead me when the person is behaving like a total dickhead?! You never cared for me and you never cared for my mother! You were just a fucking coward that ran as far away as possible after you had your fun and even kicked her out of the company so she was unemployed again so we wouldn’t have money again so she would marry Bill! _You_ are at fault for all the shit that happened in my life and for my ruined childhood and you never ever even tried to apologize for it! Instead, you came to the US to abduct me and lure me away from school to feed me with ice-cream! What did you even think back then?! Did you think it would make things better like this? When you helped us back then before the trial I really thought you would try and make things better, but you didn't! And now I am here for nearly a week and I have almost never seen you! And yet you don’t allow me to spend my time at grandpa's place! So no, _Haytham_ , you are not my fucking father. You never were my father and you never will be my father and I am no little monkey who you can show off in front of your little business friends on some stupid party!"

"You are behaving like a three-year-old, Connor. I-"

"Yeah? And you behave like the biggest asshole in the world! I hate you!"

He expected a punch to the face, like Bill used to. He expected the pain he was used to when the lips would split open or when a large meaty fist would collide with a delicate children's nose and the dizziness that would follow soon after it would collide with a small skull, but he did not expect the loud smack when Haytham slapped him so hard that his head turned to the side because of the impact. His cheek burned not only with embarrassment and rage but with pain and in his head, he heard birds chirping for a moment. Before Haytham could even try to speak again – not that he would want to apologize anyway – Connor shot him one last long furious look and then turned on his heels and left the living room with stomping feet. He did not care if he was behaving like a child, he _was_ a fucking child! He was only fourteen! He was allowed to behave like this!

He left the house without waiting for any reaction of his father when he fled through the back door into the garden. It was a beautiful day and the sun had taunted him for the longest time through the windows of the living room to come out and play. He hated it to be kept prisoner inside the house. Warm sunlight and a soft gentle breeze greeted him when he burst out the back door. Haytham's garden was big but not as big as he originally expected. Connor did not care that much for the flowers or bushes or the statues and all the other sophisticated decorations here and there. He even ignored the big apple tree while he fled through the big garden.

He passed the neat hedges on his way and ran barefooted, only with his socks on his foots, farther away. The garden of Haytham's home was confined by a small forest und this was exactly the place where Connor wanted to go. He felt at ease when he was in a forest and more comfortable. He needed to ground himself, as far away from his father and the pomp of the house as possible. He wanted to be alone and he wanted to calm down and he did this the best when he was in the confines of nature. Only a moment later the forest greeted him with open arms and took him into its cool embrace. He did not stop anyway. There was this one tree he already found during one of his wanderings since he had come here. He could see the forest from his window and a small part of him even wanted to believe that his father gave this room to him on purpose, so he could see the forest from his room.

After a small while – because he had gone out of breath – he slowed down and shuffled on through the thick underwood, above snapping twigs and crackling leafs. Well, Edith – the maid – would kill him as soon as she would find his socks in the laundry basket! He could not hold it against her that she was so strict after all, Edith was not used to having a kid inside the house and he doubted that his father would make a big mess. This guy was so correct; he would never allow even a microscopically little stain on his clothes and surely every stain would vanish out of sheer respect as soon as Haytham would notice it.

When Connor finally stopped the forest had grown so thick around him, that he could not even tell anymore how far away he managed to get from the house. He did not know how big the forest really was, but it could not be _that_ big – at least it did not look big from Connor's room – and still he needed to take care. This was not his district and he did not know what dangers awaited him. Hidden slopes he could fall down and break his neck was only one of the many hidden dangers waiting for him, but he had no time to waste to think about all this, because finally, he discovered a tree which did not seem to belong inside this very forest. It was big and his trunk mighty and robust enough to build a decent treehouse on it. He was way bigger and taller than the other trees and – for god's sake! – He wanted to climb that thing!

His father would never expect him to sit on that tree if he would search for him – although Connor highly doubted he would go search for him – so his decision to waste his excessive energy on climbing this tree was made a lot faster than he had the chance on inspecting the tree first. He did not know if the tree was healthy or if the branches he would grab to lift himself were rotten. He did not know this tree, while he knew every single tree by name back in Dorchester (even though his favorite was the lemon tree in their garden behind the house where still Desmond's tire swing hung). He would’ve loved to build a treehouse there with Malik's help, but he said the tree was not strong enough. This one right here would be strong enough but now there was no Malik to help him with this project. Perhaps he could try to persuade Edward.

Without wasting another moment he pushed his right foot inside a knothole – deep enough for him to reach it without jumping but high enough so no smaller child could reach it - and pushed himself up to grab one of the lower branches to pull himself up. The tree seemed as if he was made for him to climb it, as if he had waited years and years for him to arrive. He was a good climber and he spent lots of his time training exactly this when he was still a child. He wandered through Dorchester's forests and tried to climb higher and higher every time and then faster and faster. He found his footing on the rough bark of the tree, while he pulled himself up and up and up. Perhaps it was for the best that he did not wear shoes. Never in his life, it felt easier to climb a tree and he was only satisfied when he was a few feet above the ground to drag himself up a thick branch to rest and lean with his back against the trunk. The branch moaned under his weight.

His father would never follow him onto the tree for the insects alone, but Connor watched lazily how a fat black spider spun her net and how a big brown bug crawled over the branch. A little higher he spotted a bird's nest, but it was too far away for him to see what birds were nesting up there or if there were already some eggs inside the nest.

Perhaps he would climb higher as soon as he would catch his breath again, but for now, he decided to rest and closed his eyes a little to listen to the sounds of the forest. He listened to the chanting and chirping of the birds in the crowns and to the cracking and crunching around him or to the moaning of the branches in the gentle breeze and the whispering of the leaves. The sun was glistening through the thick roof of leaves above him like it was grinning impishly at him; triumphant for getting him to come and play in the woods and the sunlight, but Connor ignored the light on his closed eyelids and only devoured the warm summer breeze, the smells, and the sounds.

It was different in the UK than it was in the US. Since he was in London it had rained the most time, even the woods still smelled a little moist, but he did not care that much for he had been sightseeing most of the time with Edward since his arrival. He had already seen the _Buckingham Palace_ and the _Tower of London_ , _Madame Tussaud's_ and the famous _London Bridge_. They had been to _Piccadilly Circus_ and to _Marks and Spencer's_ and even at _Baker Street_ and lastly, they had ended yesterday's events with a cup of hot chocolate in the famous _White's chocolate house_. Grandpa Edward had taken him wherever he wanted to go since his arrival, but for now, he was stuck in the house with his father and they won't get along at all. They were like fire and water, they were only working themselves up on one another und yet they were much more alike than expected. Perhaps this was the real reason for their constant battling.

Grandpa Edward had told him he liked to visit _White's chocolate house_ with Haytham when he was still a child and he'd said that his father had been a sweet-tooth (like Connor now), but Connor had a real hard time trying to imagine his father as a child. He knew from Edward that he had been traveling way too much during Haytham's childhood and that he was grieving because he spent so little time with his son when he was still a kid. Perhaps his father and he were the same, but Haytham had at least known his father. That was exactly the reason why he could not understand that his father had turned his back on him. All the more sad he felt. Back then he could not understand, but meanwhile, he knew that he was the mistake his father had wanted to forget and for which he felt ashamed. He was the stain on his father's west which he could not get rid of so easily, which he could not just stare away and which he could not just wash out and which he was constantly reminded about – again and again and again.

And with that Connor pondered about what the reason for his father's remorse was. Was it his very existence his father regretted or the way he left his mother? Perhaps it was for the better if he would not think too much about it.

His cheek still burnt like fire, but he was much angrier and a little bit ashamed and not so much in pain to be honest. He liked to say he was afraid of his father after this outburst of violence, but he really was not. Haytham did not remind him of Bill and he was no traumatized and fearful little child cowering in some dark and dirty corner anymore. He was angry with Haytham for his inappropriate reaction, but he would not shy away from him. And he knew that he was right with the things he said to him and that this was the reason why Haytham smacked him, to begin with. His father had no experience in being a father and he would never be or become a father at all. Perhaps this was the real reason why he was angry with Haytham (and with himself). He did not need a father. He never had a father. He had Altair and Malik and that was enough. He had his three big brothers and his grandfather to care for him and love him and guide him. And now he sat here and he was angry – angry with himself for hoping that he really could build a relationship with this man, this sperm donor. He should’ve known better. He should have known that he and his father would not get along at all and now he just wanted to travel back home again.

He missed his brothers dearly. He missed Malik and Kadar. He wanted to jump into the next airplane back to Boston and flee into his big, big brother's arms as soon as he would set foot on American ground again.

"Hello up there, Connor."

By now he already was familiar with the voice of Shay Patrick Cormac, his father's secretary, business partner and best friend, even though he had seen him only a few times since he was here. But oh well, he had seen this man probably much more often than his own father since he was in Britain.

When Connor finally looked down to the ground he saw the man standing by the side of the tree, smirking up at him. Shay did not seem to be a man who laughed a lot, but his eyes alone told that he had a good sense of humor - in his own very special way. He wore his usual dark clothing but had chosen a much more casual look than his father (and much more practical for running around in the woods). His black hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. Connor had not even heard him coming - that was because he had been so deeply engaged in his own thoughts and worries - and perhaps this was why Shay's lopsided smirk grew into a massive grin and because of that the scar on his face, above his right eye, seemed much more prominent for those little wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled or grinned. Other than this he could use a shave (very much like his beloved grandfather), but he was still a _young_ man and women liked this shadow of a beard – at least this was what Ezio used as an excuse for being too lazy and not shaving his face a few days straight.

"What's wrong, lad?" Shay called up to him and blinked against the sunlight when he glanced up to Connor, but the boy did not make any move at all to climb down again. He felt safe up here. "Something happened?"

Connor shrugged his shoulders and shook his head on the same instant and left Shay confused with that undecided gesture. He was glad that it was Shay and not his grandpa who found him here in this particular situation, for his grandpa would probably kick his father's ass when he would hear that Haytham smacked his only child, which was his most beloved and precious grandson.

"Did someone bully you?"

They both knew well who Shay meant with _someone_. There was only one person which bullied Connor. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head anyway a second time before he then moaned and crossed his arms. Normally Connor did not sulk. Well … yes he did. He did sulk a lot in fact. But he did not sulk. He was no child that would sulk or pout – only that he was a kid which sulked and pouted a lot. Oh well. "No…" He finally mumbled but instead of climbing down the tree he just wiggled a little bit farther into the middle of the branch, farther away from the trunk, his legs dangling right and left of the branch in midair.

"Did you fight with Haytham?" It seemed he did his very best not to chuckle, but finally, Connor nodded a little. He knew his cheek was still red where his father's hand had hit him. "What was it about?"

Yeah, well, what was it about? "He is an asshole." That really hit the nail on the head, right? Then again it did not help shrugging all this off, even though Shay had made himself comfortable in leaning against the trunk as if he was preparing for a longer conversation with the kid. The fat black spider looked distrustful down on the man. "He acts like he is my father."

"Well, he _is_ your father."

"No, he is not. He hasn’t raised me. He only acts up. He abandoned me and mom and that’s about it. For him, it would be much more pleasant if I would've never been born. He, the impeccable Haytham E. Kenway, has made a mistake and knocked someone up - and this is the truth he cannot escape. That’s how he treats me, like a fucking blemish in his life."

"I think you do him wrong." Shay replied, but his grin never faded - not even for a second.

"No, I don’t think so." Connor grumbled finally. "That would all be okay if he would simply ignore me, but he doesn’t even allow me to move in with grandpa as long as I am here. He wants to control me and let me feel how much he resents me. And now he even wants to show me off like his stupid little circus monkey in front of his friends."

"You mean the upcoming party, right?" Shay chuckled and Connor grunted.

"He wanted to teach me how to dance, but I think he just wanted to show me that there is no place for me in his world. I don’t belong in this fancy society of his. For him, I am no more than his stupid monkey."

"Well, he seems to like stupid little circus monkeys then." Shay laughed. "The party in two weeks is the big company anniversary and there are a lot of _fancy_ business companions of your father coming, but also people of the high society and even of nobility. He doesn’t want to show you off like a trained monkey. Haytham is way too proud to admit to his own alleged mistakes and he sure as hell would never show his alleged mistakes around in public. He wants to brag about you. Haytham is like a peacock, you can see this clearly by the way he dresses. He loves to decorate himself with precious clothing, noble people, and an excellent reputation. And it seems you are the most beautiful feather of his tail."

Connor wiggled again a little more into the middle of the branch and swung his right leg to the other side so he could turn his entire body towards Shay to have a better look at him. The branch moaned once again, but his eyes were huge. "What do you mean?"

With a triumphant grin, Shay Cormac stepped back from the tree trunk. "I mean that your father is speaking about nothing else than his precious little son in America since he came back from Dorchester with Edward back then. All the guests that will be attending the party are informed about your participation because your father even announced it in the official invitations. Your father might be strict and he has no talent in dealing with children whatsoever, but no one can claim that he would not love you or that he would resent you or that he was ashamed of you. He doesn’t want you to move in with Edward because he wants you to be around him. For Christ's sake, he even gave his bloody bedroom to you so you could have a nice look at the forest from your room during your stay!"

Connor was sure Shay did not lie to him about all that, but it sounded way too strange and unbelievable to be possibly the truth. In the moment he opened his mouth to talk back to him there was a loud crack, but this time, it was not just the loud moan of the branch underneath him. The fat black spider crawled panicked higher into the tree when the branch (the very rotten and probably termite infested branch) finally snapped under Connor's weight and broke.

 

* * *

 

"Well?"

Connor was sitting with crossed legs on top of the ridiculously large kitchen table where his father preferred to eat his breakfast even though he would always remind Connor that he had a dining room for this kind of activity every time the boy would sit down with him to have his breakfast in the kitchen (the realm of the staff). After a long and extensive bath, Connor was at least clean again, but that did not change much about his overall condition – which his father was bound to realize. Connor had already changed into his beloved sleeping pants (light blue with little penguins, bought for him by grandpa Edward) and his favorite dark grey T-Shirt, his still moist hair bound to a loose ponytail and his bruised hands in his lap while his father was occupied with cleaning a small scratch under his left eye, his face as calm as ever. A big band-aid already covered a small cut on his right cheekbone and another rather large band-aid was covering a nasty cut on his right forearm.

"I fell." Connor mumbled finally when he looked up at his father with big eyes a little bit judging; although his father would much rather draw a parallel to a puppy dog begging for food when being confronted with a look like Connor's. Well … He guessed chocolate would not really hurt right now and would probably help with the pain better than any medication could.

"That's what Shay told me." Haytham replied in this very calm and collected manner of his which Connor normally detested so much while he inspected the scratch under his eye once more and stuck another band-aid to his son's face. The bruises on his arms and chest and back already begun to blossom every here and there but Connor had already been hurt worse than this. "Come on show me your hand." Haytham demanded then and only a little reluctant Connor lifted his left hand from his lap and showed it to his father. A small twig had ripped the palm of his hand open really nasty, but this was not so much of a problem and the cut was treated fast by his father. "If it's not going to get better and if it swells we need to get to a doctor." Haytham explained still calm when he referred to Connor's probably sprained wrist and Connor nodded.

The fall had shocked him much more than he was ready to admit, but at least Shay had been there to help him and he had even carried the confused and dizzy teen back home on his large back. It was probably the very first time he had seen his father with a face like this, full of worry and a little voice inside Connor's head had been even glad to see him worried like this. Until now Connor still did not know why Shay had been in the forest and he would probably never know but this was not important anyway. He had been in the right spot at the right time and that was all that really mattered.

Connor watched how his father turned to search for an ice pack in the freezer, before he found one, grabbed it, covered it with a thin towel and pressed it down on Connor's wrist. It really hurt a lot, but this was nothing compared to a broken foot. "It was you who called the ambulance back then, right? I mean when I fell down the tree on the schoolyard and broke my foot."

The old man made a face and pressed his lips into a thin line and by now Connor knew that he did this only when he was uncomfortable. So the answer was yes. He had assumed this since the day he really met him on the schoolyard, but he never really cared about it or asked anyone to tell him about it. "Well it's not like I could have let you lie there, right? Your irresponsible teachers were not there to take care of you after all. It was my duty as a responsible adult to take care of this situation."

Connor grinned a little but hid it fast when he lowered his chin a little bit and looked again up to his father through his bangs. "I'm sorry." The fourteen-year-old boy mumbled sheepishly and watched how his father folded his arms before he turned with a small sigh to get his hands to work when he began taking care of the five-o-clock-tea in pouring water into the kettle without the help of the cook.

"This tree is corroded from insects and parasites. I would’ve told you if you'd asked me." Connor did not make any move at all to get down from the table even if he already knew either the cook or the maid would shoo him away like a cat stealing a bit of ham. Instead, he pressed the ice-pack tighter to his wrist and watched the master of the house how he put down the kettle on the stove and made a flame underneath it. "I climbed that tree myself when I was a kid."

" _You_ know how to climb?"

"What do you think where you got that from, pup?"


End file.
